<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Found In Your Arms by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441047">Found In Your Arms</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii'>Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating, Bone Breaking, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sexist Language, Stabbing, Torture, geralt blames himself</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:46:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeking revenge against Geralt, someone with a grudge captures and tortures you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Found In Your Arms</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You were in the market, examining the wares of a merchant and bartering over the price when you felt a pair of hands latch onto your waist. Your reaction was immediate and instinctive, throwing an elbow back hard into the ribs of whoever dared grab onto you, but to your frustration they caught your arm before you made contact, grip strong and tight. Hairs prickled on the back of your neck as you felt cool breath against the shell of your ear, a looming presence hulking over you–</p><p>“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” a gruff, familiar voice asked you in amusement.</p><p>You huffed, but all the tension instantly melted out of your body and you leaned back against Geralt, tilting your head back to look up at him. “I’d hardly call you just a friend, love, and you were the one who startled me.”</p><p>He chuckled quietly, strong arms slipping around your waist and drawing you tighter against him. “I’m sorry, dove. I was passing through on the way to finish a contract when I saw you.”</p><p>Disappointment flashed through you and you saw his nostrils flare as he registered the surge of emotion. You twisted around to face him, frowning slightly. “So you’re not staying?”</p><p>Arms still encircling you, Geralt squeezed gently. “I’ve got a kikimore corpse to deliver and be paid for.” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, leather rough against your skin, and you closed your eyes with a sigh. “I’ll return before you’ve had long enough to miss me.”</p><p>You knew that wasn’t true, because you always missed him as soon as he walked outside your door. But you would never place the burden of that on his already-weighed-down shoulders, so you held your tongue. Instead you raised a hand to hold his palm to your face, gently turning to press your lips to his gloved palm and looking at him from under your lashes. “Until then. Don’t keep me waiting long.”</p><p>Something warm and hungry sparked in his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up in a hint of a smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” His thumb slid gently over your lower lip before he gently tugged his hand free and lowered his arm. “People are staring. Whispering.”</p><p>You wrapped your arms around your midsection, smiling ruefully. “Townspeople love to gossip. I’ll see you soon.” Your chest ached dully as he stepped away from you and he stopped to look at you thoughtfully. “Geralt? What is it?”</p><p>He suddenly stepped in close, his voice husky and rough. “They’re going to stare anyways, so let’s give them something worth looking at.” And then he was kissing you, hands tight on your hips and his teeth sinking into your lip before soothing with his tongue and you gasped, going boneless and clutching his arms as you responded eagerly. One of his hands slid through your hair, loosing it from its tie and mussing it up before holding the back of your head gently; you hummed his name as his nails dug in, chasing him when he pulled away. He chuckled, kissed the corner of your mouth before drawing back to smirk at you. “A little something to remember me by. I’ll see you in a few days, dove.”</p><p>You gaped after him as he turned and strode towards Roach, dutifully waiting not far away. </p><p>“You <em>asshole</em>,” you called after him. He swung up into the saddle and you saw a very faint shake of his shoulders. You scowled when he smirked at you, muttering curses under your breath as you paid for your wares. Your face grew hot at the look the merchant was giving you and you were hasty to pack them into the basket you’d brought. When you turned around you realized everyone was staring at you: face flushed, hair disheveled, lips probably still plush from Geralt’s kiss.</p><p>You ducked your head and rushed out of the market, hastening home.</p><p>Being the subject of so many stares, you didn’t even notice the one man who watched Geralt trot away on Roach before fixing his gaze on you, following you as you left.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>You were just settling in for bed when you heard the creak of the front door. Heart leaping, you perked up and went to your bedroom door, cracking it open. “Geralt? Love, is that you?” you called into the hall.</p><p>Silence. </p><p>Geralt would’ve answered you.</p><p>Hope slowly giving way to unease, you crept into the hall and saw that your front door had been left slightly ajar. <em>You were certain you’d locked it. </em>With no small amount of trepidation, you went to go shut it, eyes darting all over and a chill creeping down your spine. You shut the door with a click and locked it, your hand trembling slightly.</p><p>The scuff of a shoe on the floor is the only warning you get before your arms are seized and pulled behind your back by a strong grip. You yelped and struggled, but whoever he was, he was damned strong and held you pinned.</p><p>“You’re not who I’m after, so I won’t force you unless you force my hand.”</p><p>You stiffened, dread making your stomach turn. “Who are you?” you demanded, squirming. You winced when he wrenched your arm, making your shoulder throb with pain.</p><p>“That’s not important,” he muttered and then you felt the bite of rope being cinched around your wrist. Panic unfurled, adrenaline surging through you. You went limp and when he scrambled to catch you and pulled you upright with a muttered curse, you threw your head back, skull throbbing as it collided with his nose. He swore louder and you wrenched your arms free, slipped past him and sprinted for the back door in the kitchen.</p><p>You’d barely made it to the end of the hall before he tackled you, knocking you down. You heard a sickening crack and then agony seared through your left leg, making you scream. While you were still dazed from the pain he bound your wrists painfully tight and you sniffled, breathing raggedly. Your head swam, nausea churning in the pit of your stomach.</p><p>“Try to run again and I’ll do a lot worse than break your leg,” he hissed. Then he rolled off of you and wrenched you upright. You automatically tried to stand and cried out when it made sickening pain flare through your broken leg. Huffing, he used your bound arms as leverage to haul you off the ground and marched you to the kitchen. He forced you to sit down in a chair and he bound each of your ankles to one of the legs.</p><p>You gritted your teeth as he bound your bad legs, tears welling up in your eyes but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making you scream again, wouldn’t let him see you cry. He also bound your torso to the seat, rendering you motionless.</p><p>“What do you want?” you spat at him. He looked up at you, and you were startled to see that he was rather handsome. Dark eyes, tan skin, a well-maintained bit of stubble and slicked salt-and-pepper hair. But his eyes were cold, a manic gleam making them shine, and they were rimmed by shadows so dark they looked like bruises.</p><p>“Not what,” he told you as he stepped behind you to finish tying off the rope. “Who. I saw you with the Butcher of Blaviken in the market–”</p><p>Hot anger swept through you. “His name is <em>Geralt</em> of <em>Rivia</em>,” you interrupted. The man was silent and then there suddenly cold steel biting at the flesh of your neck and you froze as it dug in, breaking the skin and drawing a thin line of blood.</p><p>“You know him, and that’s exactly what I need,” he spoke quietly near your ear and you squeezed your eyes closed.</p><p>“I won’t tell you anything,” you vowed. You would never betray Geralt’s trust.</p><p>“You will. But more importantly, you’ll be the perfect tool to use against him. When will he return?”</p><p>“He won’t,” you lied.</p><p>He suddenly stepped in front of you, bracing his hands on either side of the chair and pressing in uncomfortably close. You tried to lean back but you could only go so far and he kept leaning in, until his stale, stinking breath washed over your face when he spoke. “He will. I saw how he was with you. He’ll return for you, and I’ll be waiting. Until then,” he smiled coldly, leaning back and brandishing his knife, “we have plenty of time to get acquainted.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Finishing up his job had taken a bit longer than he would’ve liked, and he was eager to get back to you. Eager enough to push Roach faster, until she tossed her head at him. He patted her neck in apology, let her ease into a gentler trot. When he saw your cottage he felt warmth trickle through his veins. It was the closest thing he had to call home.</p><p>He was standing outside the door when he realized something was wrong.</p><p>He smelled blood, and pain, and worst of all the bitter, rotten scent of your terror and anger. Drawing his sword, Geralt silently opened your door and crept inside, alert for any sign of trouble. Or any sign of you.</p><p>“For the last time, I won’t tell you anything,” he heard you say from your bedroom. The sound was followed by a dull thud and a grunt of pain from you, and Geralt saw red. Without conscious thought his feet were carrying him down the hall and he was breaking down your door.</p><p>In the few seconds it took him to take in the scene before him – you were bound to a chair, your left leg swollen and obviously broken; your favorite nightgown sliced to ribbon and hanging off of you in tatters, thin cuts crosshatched on your right thigh; and your left eye was swollen shut, your lip split and oozing a fresh trickle of blood down your chin – your assailant was behind you with his blade against your throat.</p><p>“Well, well. The Butcher joins us at last.” He sneered at Geralt, holding a fistful of your hair to tilt your head back and bare your throat. “What took you so long?”</p><p>“Geralt, don’t–” you tried to speak, cutting off with a hiss when he pressed his knife into your skin. Geralt saw faded pink lines where he must have done the same several time and his rage turned to ice in his veins, cooling off and freezing everything in him. He locked eyes with your attacker and knew he was going to kill him, and Geralt felt nothing.</p><p>Geralt stared at the man silently, waiting for him to speak. His lips curved up in a slow, sadistic grin. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to do exactly what I say, or I’ll gut your whore.”</p><p>“Hurt her and I’ll kill you,” Geralt said. His voice was even and quiet, and he caught the relief trickle through your scent, soothing the harsh fear. He refused to let it affect him, couldn’t afford for it to soothe him and make him drop his guard. He didn’t look at you though he felt your eyes on his face, he focused only on the threat in the room.</p><p>“Even if you do, I’ll have done what I want.”</p><p>“What is it that you want?” Geralt asked neutrally. Idly, like the answer didn’t interest him, like the outcome of this night didn’t matter. Like his heart wasn’t thudding slow and hard in his ribs, like his insides hadn’t turned to ice.</p><p>“To destroy you, as you destroyed me.” The man spat at Geralt’s feet.</p><p>Geralt raised an eyebrow calmly. “What have I done to wrong you?” he asked coolly.</p><p>“You killed my <em>daughter</em>, you <em>son of a whore</em>,” he suddenly yelled, digging his blade into your throat until it drew a thin line of blood. You hissed and went tense and Geralt cursed mentally.</p><p>“Did I? Then she must have deserved it.”</p><p>“It wasn’t her <em>fault</em> she was cursed!” the man shouted, and suddenly Geralt remembered.</p><p>“I remember you. Joren. Your daughter had slaughtered half of your village. I broke the curse, but even after she’d been freed of it she continued to hunt and kill. She was beyond saving. You just couldn’t accept that, and it clearly drove you mad.”</p><p>“You <em>liar</em>!” he shouted and suddenly his knife flashed. Geralt went tense as you cried out, a fresh cut weeping scarlet across your chest. “You gutted my daughter and now your <em>slut</em> is going to share her fate! Drop the fucking sword and do as I say, or I’ll make her death a slow and painful one.” Geralt didn’t move and suddenly the knife was hovering near your eye. <em>“I said to drop your fucking sword.”</em></p><p>The steel clanged as it hit the ground and Joren smirked, his chest heaving with the force of his ragged breaths. He was deranged and Geralt had to find a way to get him away from you. “On the nightstand by the door, there’s a vial. You’re going to pick it up, and drink it.”</p><p>“Am I?” Geralt growled.</p><p>“Unless you want me to carve out her eyes in front of you, yes, you are,” Joren snapped right back. You caught Geralt’s eyes with your own and he smelled the fresh surge of your fear, heard your heart racing. You mouthed ‘don’t’ at him, eyes begging him not to, but he saw no other choice. He gave you a rueful smile before turning to the nightstand and taking the specified vial full of murky liquid.</p><p>“Geralt, <em>no!” </em>you cried and he heard the chair creak followed by the slap of a blow and your cry of pain.</p><p>“Stay fucking still,” and when Geralt turned back there was a red handprint on your cheek. His fingers clenched into a fist.</p><p>“Geralt,” you met his eyes and your own shone with tears, and Geralt felt his cold heart thaw a bit, a few cracks splintering it, “Geralt don’t drink it. You don’t know what it will do. Please, don’t–”</p><p>Joren silenced you by yanking on your hair. “Shut the hell up, don’t make me kill you,” he hissed.</p><p>“I would rather die than let you do this!” you swore. You suddenly spat right in Joren’s eye and he reflexively jerked back, swearing and rubbing at his face. Geralt took the presented opportunity and with the speed born of mutation he leapt across the room, wresting the knife from Joren’s grip and stabbing it through his skull up to the hilt, killing him instantly. He dropped like a sack of bricks, twitching and gurgling as he died, but Geralt paid him no mind, crouching in front of you and tearing the ropes off of you.</p><p>“Dove, I’m so sorry–”</p><p>As soon as your arms were free they were wrapped around him and you began to sob. Geralt went very still at first, allowing the icy focus he required for battle to slowly melt away. When it felt safe to do so, he carefully slid his arms around you, pressed his face into your hair and listened to your heartbeat. He held you until your crying ceased, until you were hiccuping and breathing easily, before pulling away and resting his forehead on yours.</p><p>“We need to get you to a healer,” he murmured, rage simmering in his voice as he looked over your injuries. Some of the cuts were puffy with infection, inflamed angry red, and he wanted to kill Joren again, but slower this time, to make him suffer as he’d made you suffer–</p><p>Your gentle fingers stroking his face drew his focus and Geralt looked at you. He grasped your hand in his, hating that he could feel you trembling.</p><p>“I’m glad you came,” you whispered.</p><p>“He wouldn’t have come after you if you weren’t associated with me,” Geralt muttered taking his cloak off and wrapping it around you like a blanket before sliding his arms under you and, being mindful of your broken leg, carefully lifted you up in his arms. You slid your arms around his shoulders, and all the fear drained from your scent as you curled up to him.</p><p>“When I’m less tired, we can argue about how this isn’t your fault,” you whispered, your head resting on his shoulder.</p><p>Geralt sighed deeply. “Okay, dove.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The healer worked on you tirelessly through the night. He had to re-break and set your leg, and Geralt held your hand while you screamed despite the pain medication you’d been given. He only growled when the healer tried to get him to leave, and that was the end of that discussion. You squeezed his hand after and when he met your eyes they were shining with gratitude.</p><p>“Don’t leave me alone,” you whispered, eyes welling up with tears, and he brushed them away gently.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised quietly. “Rest, dove, you’re safe now.” He kissed your hand in his grasp, watched as your eyes fluttered shut. He watched the healer with predatory eyes, every muscle tense because he hated letting a stranger see you so vulnerable, hated that he had to allow him to <em>touch you</em>, but you needed care so he accepted it, but he was on alert for any deceit or trickery, any hint of malice. It made the healer uneasy, the stink of fear and indignation permeating the room on top of your pain and exhaustion, and Geralt was near feral and ready to climb the walls.</p><p>Instead he stayed sitting by your side, holding your hand while you were cleaned and bandaged and examined, given medicine and salves. His jaw flexed but he was mindful not to grip your hand too hard, loathe to cause you even the smallest amount of discomfort after what you’d been through.</p><p>He didn’t sleep that night, keeping vigil after the healer left, monitoring your breathing and heartbeat for any indication of trouble.</p><p>His eyes were on your face when they fluttered open shortly after dawn, and something in him fractured when you gave him a sleepy smile.</p><p>“Good morning,” you spoke in a hoarse voice. Geralt rubbed your hand between his; it was cold, even to his touch, and he didn’t like that. He knew it was because of the blood loss, but it made him restless and unhappy so he rubbed your hand to try and warm it up. “Geralt?” you asked softly and he grunted. “Geralt I know you’re still upset. Talk to me.”</p><p>Geralt exhaled roughly and dropped his head so it rested on your joined hands, closing his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the forgiveness in your face when he didn’t deserve it. He went tense when your fingers slid through his hair, remaining silent.</p><p>“Geralt,” you murmured, “it wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>“It was me he wanted to hurt,” Geralt muttered.</p><p>“And I’m glad he didn’t get to,” you said softly. “You’ve been hurt enough–”</p><p>“He did hurt me,” Geralt growled, low and vicious. “I would rather he come for me directly, rather he’d killed me, than have this happen to you.”</p><p>You were quiet. “I wouldn’t.”</p><p>Geralt’s head snapped up and he stared at you incredulously. You smiled tiredly, cupping his jaw in your hand. “I would protect you with my life, Geralt, and I know you’d do the same for me. This is….I’ll recover. And we’ll still have each other, so I’d say it could be a lot worse.” Your tone was light, but your eyes were searching his, uncertain, seeking. He felt his head tilt to one side.</p><p>“Dove?” he questioned you quietly.</p><p>“I know you’ve been thinking about leaving,” you told him, and his gaze slid away from yours, fixing on the wall as he sighed. It was all the admission you needed. “Don’t,” you pleaded. “Geralt, please.”</p><p>“Things like this will keep happening, Y/N,” he said seriously. “Being near me will only bring you suffering. Death, monsters, <em>torture.</em> I can’t…..I can’t risk you like that, even if it means giving you up.”</p><p>“Geralt, look at me,” you pleaded quietly. When he refused you sat up with a pained grunt and he snapped to look at you.</p><p>“What are you doing,” he hissed, his hands gently helping guide you to a sitting position and propping a pillow behind your back to support you. You settled back gratefully, panting a bit and pain lacing through your previously calm scent.</p><p>“Getting your attention,” you told him with a wry smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You were far too pale for his liking, it made the bruises and cuts stand out vividly on your ashen skin and he couldn’t bear it– “Hey. Geralt. Focus on me. This is important.” You slid a hand into his hair and he went rigid, not wanting to yield, to give in as he always did, because you were right, this was important. He had to stand firm, had to stop putting you in danger by being associated with him. “Geralt. You don’t like seeing me hurt, right?”</p><p>Geralt grunted, his nose wrinkling, and it was answer enough. You rested your forehead against his. “Nothing ever hurts me so much as when you leave,” you told him. He stared at you, amber eyes unreadable but full of some strong emotion he was trying to suppress. You smiled weakly, felt your eyes stinging with tears.</p><p>“I never wanted to tell you that, because it would only make you feel guilty, and I understand. Your life is on the road, it’s your duty, and I can’t begrudge you that because it was all that you knew before we met, and it will be what you know long after I’m gone. But every time you walk out of my door, I fear that you won’t come back, by death or by choice, and I cry myself to sleep and I ache as though someone has cut off one of my limbs, and that ache is never soothed until you return to me. This–” You gestured vaguely at your body, indicating your various injuries. “This is nothing, compared to the agony of you leaving me. Don’t….don’t hurt me like that, Geralt, because that’s the only pain I can’t withstand,” you begged quietly, eyes locked on his.</p><p>Geralt shut his eyes, breathed in slow and deep through his nose. You saw his shoulders slump, and he didn’t answer but you knew he was giving in. You kissed his forehead and he drew back, getting to his feet silently.</p><p>“Where are you going?” you asked quietly when he stood in the doorway, fingers clenching around the thin sheet laying over your legs.</p><p>Geralt stood with his back to you in the doorway, his voice terse. “You need to rest more. I’m going to dispose of the body and clean up a bit.”</p><p>You relaxed a bit, gingerly inching your way to lay back down because he was right, you were still very exhausted. “I love you, Geralt,” you said around a yawn.</p><p>When you looked back at the doorway he was already gone.</p><p>Wiping your eyes, you allowed sleep to take you once more.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It wasn’t until the next day that the healer determined it safe enough for you to go home, albeit with a bunch of medicines and herbs to take to fight the infection and to soothe your pain, and some to help you sleep at night. You thanked him and when you limped out of his home Geralt was leaning against the wall outside with his eyes shut, arms loosely crossed over his chest. He opened his gaze when he felt you watching him, not saying a word as he regarded you steadily.</p><p>You were wearing a simple tunic and pants that the healer had loaned you in place of your ruined nightgown, and you were grateful that the clothes covered the worst of the bruising and cuts on your legs and chest. You still had a black eye, but it was no longer swollen shut, and your lip was healing nicely. Still, you know it must have bothered Geralt, seeing you like this, and you know it was hardly pretty – you’d caught a glimpse of your face in the mirror on your way out.</p><p>You ducked your head and dropped your eyes, rubbing your arm self-consciously.</p><p>Geralt breathed in deep and pushed off the wall, striding over to you and cupping your face in both hands, gently tipping it up until you looked at him.</p><p>“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, lips brushing over yours feather-light and breathing his next words into your mouth as you sighed tremulously, “and I’m glad that you’re alive.” You wound your arms around him and leaned into him hard, hiding your face against his chest. You were still processing everything you’d been through, and you knew it was a long road of recovery ahead of you before you’d be okay again.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re still here,” you whispered against the front of Geralt’s shirt. He grunted, sliding his arms around you gingerly, afraid to hold on too tight when you still had so many tender bits. One of his hands slid gently through your hair before coming to rest on your nape, thumb working at the tension there until you went boneless in his arms with a groan and then he effortlessly lifted you up, carrying you bridal style.</p><p>You slitted one eye open to look up at him. “Take me home?” you asked quietly.</p><p>He nodded and you kissed his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, trusting him to look after you.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>